Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

finally came loose
“Turn it over” remarked King. We did so and saw that the runners were covered with a fine coat of rust.
“Well – for heaven’s sake” remarked Bill exasperated
“Gee” I remarked “we’ll break all records at this rate.”
“Yes - I don’t think so” laughed King “wait I’ll get a file – bring it up to the porch.”
    We tugged and lifted and pushed until we finally had the cumbersome object at the back porch, where we set to work. There were four runners, one for each of us, and so we each filed our runner until we could see the metal. This accomplished, King dragged the bobby on the road. I jumped on and road to the corner where Bill tumbled me off. Wrathfully I turned to Smith and together we sat down determinedly on the sled. Bill and King willingly pulled us along, nobly sacrificing our weight.
    The snow had almost ceased to fall: now and then the noon peeped out from between the rifts in the ragged rapidly moving storm-clouds – a few flurries of snow accompanied by a cold hard wind was all that remained of the